Just a Puppet
by TheCartoonusMaximus
Summary: The Marionette hangs from the ceiling, regarding the new night guard and thinking about how it was once human as well.


I discovered the "Five Nights at Freddy's" games recently and I really got into the storyline and the designs. I'm especially fascinated by the Marrionette, so I wrote this oneshot. Enjoy.

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"Just a Puppet" 4/9/2015

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I hang in the corner, hanging and operated by a single wire that curled around my neck. My beady button eyes peer out from the darkness they've hidden me in, watching you.

"_**Jeremy Fitzgerald..."**_ I whisper, forcing my voice box to say the words as lowly as possible so you don't hear. I think I know you, but I'm not sure.

Your ears have perked, as if you've heard something. Did you hear my old, broken voice box after all? Even through my thin, cotton-clothed exterior? Your flashlight shines on my plastic face as you turn to look at me, illuminating my wry smile, my red cheeks, and the permanent tears that have been painted to run down my face, my crying that will last a lifetime.

Your eyes meet mine, and I can see in your eyes the doubt that I am a mere cloth body wrapped around a metal endoskeleton, mounted to the wall by a wire noose. You believe... you believe I'm alive, don't you?

You unfortunate night guard. Don't you know? You are the only thing alive in this building, after all.

I smile at you and tilt my head a bit to the side, allowing you to see. I watch you stare, looking as if you want to jump and run and scream but can't. You're frozen, aren't you, Jeremy Fitzgerald? Complete frozen with fear.

If I were to jump out at you right now, could you move fast enough to avoid me?

Your movements are delayed, but you finally reach to put on a mask. A mask you've been provided by the management, very likely to protect you from us.

I hope it works on the others, for your sake. But I'm afraid it won't work on me. I am not a simple machine, you see.

I remember a time, not so very long ago... A thin body with rosy cheeks and tears flowing down my face, hung from the rafters of the backroom of this very restaurant, a rope made from spare wires and cables digging into my neck. They found me two days later, when the smell got too great. They had to investigate.

I think back as I watch you fumble futily with your Freddy-lookalike face. I don't remember much about myself, actually. I was... in the back room, and... he jumped me? Or maybe he didn't. He was there, but did he hang me or did I do it myself. I was feeling guilty. Crying.

That's me, though. Always crying.

And then... you were taking me down from my place of rest. Or maybe not you, but someone in your uniform. Then nothing. Blackness.

I was searching. Searching for a resting place. And that person, he knew it, I think. He built a resting place for me, a soft cotton body enwrapped around my metal tomb.

And now I'm here. Hanging once again from the ceiling of Fazbear's Pizzeria, only this time to dance and sing for the amusement of children. I think they like me. I don't know. More than one child has told me not to cry, and this only made me want to cry all the more.

I turn back to you, my thin, cloth arms reaching for you, removing your mask and handing it back to you.

"_**Please, don't bother..."**_ I tell you quietly, with my old broken voice box. You look so horrified and also fascinated. _**"This trick won't work on me. Not when I used to wear this same face to hide my own from them."**_

I didn't know your eyes could get wider, only this time with a form of recognition. A name comes from your lips, your voice that of disbelief. Is it my name? I no longer know.

I only laugh and point to the music box I am attached to. _**"Please, for your sake, do not let my music box stop playing. … I do not wish to hurt you, Jeremy Fitzgerald."**_

You gape in nothing short of amazement, not a sound to be heard except for the waning notes from the ever playing tune of my music box.

After a minute, you say that name again. That name that feels like it should mean something to me, but doesn't.

"That's you, isn't it?" You ask. "You're... a ghost now, aren't you?"

Horror. Hope. Disbelief. Faith. Confusion. Understanding. Every emotion known is written across your face. I can't even read them all.

"_**... Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not,"**_ I tell you, my voice box mangling the words. _**"Maybe I was once, and maybe I will be again someday. For now though... I'm just a puppet."**_


End file.
